Whew! I've just returned from my trip to Northern California, and I must say it was quite a good time. There are so many different types of wilderness to photograph there that it's almost hard to know where to start. Mountains, waterfalls, vineyards, rivers, deserts, rainforests, giant redwood forests, the sea -- you name it, it's there. I'm pretty happy with the shots I got, and I'll post them here as soon as they're all done and edited. (And yes, I promise I'll get them done just a wee bit faster than the Wildflowers gallery.)
For now, I have something special to share with you.
As a matter of course, I don't post personal photos of friends, family or myself here. This photoblog is solely for my fine art photography. It would be unprofessional of me to post anything else. (Besides, something tells me that pictures of me sunbathing on the beach just might scar your brain forever.)
This time, however, I am going to break the rule. You see, I don't really have any choice. The Gods of Rock and Roll demand that I show this photo to you. And, who am I to disobey Them?
One night in California I was at a nice resturaunt with my sister (she lives there), her boyfriend and some of their friends. The place was packed, so we were all sitting at the bar eating our dinners. And guess who bellied up to the bar next to us? None other than Les Claypool himself! (If you don't know who he is, slap yourself and emerge from your hermit cave.) I didn't have my SLR with me, so I had to use my cell phone camera to get this photo. Oh, the irony. I never thought I'd actually use that cheapo camera.
That's me in the middle. The girl on the left is my sister. And the man on the right needs no further introduction.